


Their House

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: A/N:Written for HP Het's prompt #1: Happy New Year.Beta(s):Sevfan and Emynn.Disclaimer:The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.





	Their House

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for HP Het's prompt #1: Happy New Year.
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Their House

~

“Where is everyone?” asked Molly, walking into the living room. In her hands were plates overflowing with pies and biscuits. “I thought I heard the Floo while I was in the kitchen.”

“You did.” 

Molly tutted. “They’d best hurry up and get here! It’s late. If they don’t arrive soon, it’ll be after midnight.” 

Arthur, kneeling by the fireplace, slowly stood. “That last call was Ron. They’re not coming.” 

“They’re not?”

“Nope. And all those Floos you heard were the rest conveying their regrets.” 

“What, none of them are coming?” Blinking, Molly set down the plates. “But I made all their favourites. Treacle tart for Harry, pies for Ron, trifle for Hermione, gingerbread biscuits for Ginny, chocolate cake for Dean— I even made a fruitcake for Severus.” 

Arthur shrugged. “Apparently everyone’s decided to stay home to bring in the New Year.” 

“But why? What could the possibly be planning to do all alone in their…?” Molly trailed off. “Oh! Oh dear.” 

“What is it?” Arthur asked, snagging a gingerbread biscuit. 

Molly, feeling her face flush, coughed. “I forget they’re all grown up now,” she said faintly. “Young, newly married, no children.” She smiled. “Why _would_ they come here?”

“Why, to celebrate, of course.” Arthur smiled. “They all love your cooking.” 

“I’m afraid my cooking can’t hold a candle to what they’re probably cooking up at home.” 

“What does that mean—? Oh!” Arthur’s eyes went wide. “You think they’re, erm, spending some intimate alone time together?” 

Molly raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you if you were that young and had an evening to yourself?” 

Arthur hummed. “You’re right, I would. And speaking of…” Reaching for her, he drew her close, clasping her in his arms. “I’m suddenly feeling rather young myself.” 

“Arthur!” Molly giggled. “We can’t! What if one of the other children decide to stop by?” 

Grinning, Arthur said, “They see the lights are out, and assume we’re not home. Or that we’re asleep.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “They don’t have to know we’re not actually sleeping.” 

“Arthur,” gasped Molly. 

“Yes?” Arthur leaned in, kissing her. It was a serious kiss, the sort that used to lead to sex, back when they had sex. Although, apparently, those days were back. 

Sagging against him, Molly opened her mouth and kissed Arthur thoroughly, her hands pulling at his shirt. “We should go upstairs,” she whispered. 

“It’s our house,” Arthur replied, pulling her towards the sofa. “We can fuck in the living room if we like.” 

Shivering at the delicious profanity falling from her usually staid husband’s lips, Molly hummed, pressing him down onto the sofa and straddling him. “Yes,” she gasped, hiking up her skirt and impatiently shoving her knickers aside. “I suppose we can.” 

It was hurried, not at all romantic or finessed. But Molly was on fire for him, and Arthur, evidently catching some of her urgency, kept trying to touch her everywhere and suck at her nipples through her blouse even as she guided him inside her and began to move up and down his length. 

His fingers slipped between them, and he fondled her clit as she moved, his finger distracting her, making her movements go ragged.

Far too soon, she was convulsing around him, and he was spurting inside her. Afterwards, she collapsed on top of him, breathing hard.

As they caught their breath, the clock struck twelve.

Stroking her back, Arthur whispered into her neck, “Happy New Year, Mollywobbles.” 

Laughing softly, Molly said, “And to you, Arthur love.” 

~


End file.
